


Atmospheric Fallout

by ILoveMisha2



Series: The end [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5x04, Angst, Clueless Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Emotionally Hurt Castiel, Endverse, Gen, No Smut, The Apocalypse, The End, past Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5726704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveMisha2/pseuds/ILoveMisha2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's change and you can't pinpoint it, not like you could when your grace started fading, not like the atmosphere, not like the time or the date or the weather. This was different. This was bad. It felt like a fair well, like the ultimate goodbye, like someone was dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atmospheric Fallout

**Author's Note:**

> Not betad  
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or supernatural nor do I make a single profit off of this fic.
> 
> Yet again another endverse fic, big surprise with me right, anyway I hope you enjoy this if you read this fic and if you dont well oh whale

He's sitting across from you on the cabin's porch with his head in his hands. It's something you're used to, something you see a lot but it doesn't change how deeply you feel it.

He's trying not to get too emotional whether that be too sad or angry or it could be anything nowadays. All you know is that he's suffering and you can't help him, not anymore. Once you could've, you could've cured him with just a touch to his forehead if you wanted to.

He turns his head in his hands so he can glance at you with one eye and you wanna smile, wanna laugh like it's the good old days, but you don't because a smile won't help him and it's not the good old days so you stare ahead and pretend not to notice his one eyed stare.

The wind is cold, you don't know why you're just now realizing it but you do and it's off putting more so than usual. It's always cold but today's colder, he's colder and you wish you knew why.

You sit there in silence with the weight of the world in his stare and you wonder what he sees in you. You wonder what he's thinking and if it's good or bad. Knowing you its probably bad because that's what you are now.

You feel it in your bones, the words he wants to say, they're strong like a forest fire 'I hate you.' They turn in your stomach like they're trying to kill you but they can't find purchase. Those words can't kill you like they could've once, they can't destroy you. But boy do they hurt.

You feel a change in atmosphere and you smile, it must be the little bits of grace you have left letting you detect something so small and insignificant.

A hand lands on your shoulder, electricity and lightning. It's something you cherish, whenever he touches you. He doesn't touch you enough.

Soon he's pulling you closer into a hug and you wanna sit there forever. You wanna melt into his embrace, to live within his arms that offer so much love even if he won't speak it. This is home and you've been gone far too long on some trip that meant nothing next to this feeling. This feeling that says 'I love you so much.' 'But only for today,' you think.

You want to feel this forever, it's just a hug but it's so much more to you. Its words and feelings, it's the light and the dark. It's the past and present and you feel it so shamelessly you want to turn away and deny such a thing.

With closed eyes you burrow in further, you're selfish and greedy and you'll take all you can from him before he pushes you away.

His embrace becomes tighter for a second before it starts to loosen. You want to ask for more, wanna pour out the words like a rainstorm. You wanna beg him to stay, to turn back and give you another chance but you stay quiet and drop yourself away from him.

The atmosphere changes again, kind of eery and floating. He's looking at you again and this time you look right back. He smiles at you all small and barely there but you can't do it back because this feels weird to you.

There's change and you can't pinpoint it, not like you could when your grace started fading, not like the atmosphere, not like the time or the date or the weather. This was different. This was bad. It felt like a fair well, like the ultimate goodbye, like someone was dying.

Like someone was dying. . .

************  
"Cas, hey, what are you doing, counting the raindrops or some shit?"

That brings you back pulls you to the now and you don't wanna go back but you don't wanna stay here.

"No, I was thinking of the past."

"Well that sure as hell won't get you anywhere. Just forget it."

"I couldn't. It's a beautifully tragic memory, Dean."

The chair you were sitting in was hard against your back, the rain was drowning you even though you were inside the cabin. He didn't seem to care or notice that you were struggling in the present. He just kept on cleaning his gun, you liked to watch.

"If it's tragic I doubt it's beautiful. . . what was it?"

"You and me, here, not here here now but here back when . . . .the atmosphere changed."

"That doesn't make a lick of sense to me.'

"It didn't to me then either."

He gives you a confused look but shrugs and pays attention to his gun. His hands move beautifully over the weapon, sure and precise.

You wish the atmosphere hadn't changed, you wish you could tell him how much you loved watching him do anything he was passionate about, you wish you both hadn't died somewhere in the past because you don't particularly like who you are now.

You wish the atmosphere hadn't changed. 

You sit and watch him clean his gun, trying uselessly to will a new atmosphere within you and him.


End file.
